


Zero Tempo

by aurics



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Sports, Tennis, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-02-04 02:41:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12761409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: When Seungcheol's volleyball team gets evicted from their home grounds, he finds the unexpected circumstance to be more of a blessing in disguise than a compromise. Meeting the neighbouring university's tennis team is a treat — especially when a certain Yoon Jeonghan is their captain.





	1. Starting Position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for taking an interest in my work! Just a note: this is a WIP that will probably be updated sparsely and/or may never be finished - please proceed with caution! (and read the end notes!) ♥

Being evicted from their own volleyball court wasn’t exactly the way Seungcheol envisioned the team's season to start off.

“Excuse me?” he says again, more out of disbelief than necessity. “This is a mistake, right?"

The receptionist gives him a pitying smile because she can probably hear the desperation in his voice. “I’m sorry. Unfortunately, the volleyball varsity team has requested for the East wing court this season, and we do have to give them the priority.” _Because they’re the ones who bring home the cash prize,_ she doesn’t say, but Seungcheol can hear the intentions crystal clear.

"Nobody told me anything about this,” Seungcheol grouses, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone. “Did they say why?"

“It was a very last-minute decision from the sports committee, but they’ve decided not to disclose what the unprecedented situation was. Even varsity teams here don’t typically request for an additional court, so it must be quite a pressing need if such a request was made. I’m sure if you booked an appointment to meet with the director —"

“Precedented or not, they should have discussed the matter with me _before_ I’ve got an entire season’s worth of planning down.” That might be an exaggeration of his productivity, but it’s late July and Seungcheol _has_ spent days drawing up the team’s schedule for the next two months. “We may be only a club team but it would be unfair to treat our obligations in a trivial manner. We’ve got competitions to win, too. This will interfere with our schedule and we can’t afford any disturbances with the season starting up soon."

“Please know that this isn’t a question of value — your worth as a club isn’t any less than a varsity team."

Seungcheol wants to roll his eyes but opts for a nod instead. “I understand. But where are we supposed to train now?

The receptionist mutters a _hold on_ before ducking behind her desk to retrieve something. “The sports committee has arranged for you to use the facilities at Pledis University, a neighbouring campus.” She hands a wide-eyed Seungcheol several crisp sheets of paper and a leaflet that advertise said facilities, though in all honesty there’s no need for them; everyone in the country knows about the private university and their elite facilities. “You’ll find them more than adequate for your needs and access to the campus is highly convenient. These flyers — yes, those ones — contain information about timings, access and the location."

The prospect disconcerts Seungcheol, and he grapples for a counterargument against this arrangement. “Doesn’t Pledis have their own volleyball team as well? How will we be able to arrange our schedule around theirs?”

“I’ve been informed that due to complications with the coach’s health, the university’s volleyball team has been granted a year-long break.” At Seungcheol’s surprised face, she continues, “Moreover, the team hasn’t been showing satisfactory results in the varsity league, so even the players themselves have agreed the hiatus was a much-needed one."

“Eerie coincidence."

“Let’s call it luck,” smiles the receptionist wryly. “Had this not happened, your only other alternative would be the public park’s volleyball court that is a little over forty minutes away."

“Great, I feel truly blessed,” mutters Seungcheol, though it doesn’t come across as sarcastic as he wanted it to. He realises, after all, that none of this is the nice receptionist’s fault and he really shouldn’t take his anger out on her.

He also knows that no one is trying to purposefully fail the volleyball club team. The only explanation for such a last-minute change in plans is the varsity team being really desperate for some extra space; probably to bring in more recruits, extend their pre-season training, he doesn’t know and is reluctant to find out about. Seungcheol understands all these circumstances and factors, but the challenge now is to get everyone else to understand, too.

 

#

 

The team isn’t happy when they find out. Not that Seungcheol expected them to be, anyway.

“There’s really nothing I can do, guys,” says Seungcheol sternly when exclamations of dissent rise in volume again. “I’m not _ecstatic_ about traveling fifteen minutes by bus everyday just to train either, but it is only fifteen minutes as opposed to, say, forty."

“But fifteen minutes _is_ still fifteen minutes as opposed to, say, two minutes to our own court,” retorts Seungkwan, his arms crossed in front of him in clear annoyance. “I’d love to talk it out with Shownu, the bastard."

“Put one foot on the court and he’ll pummel you flat onto the ground with a single spike,” says Wonwoo, rolling his eyes. Everyone knows not to mess with the varsity team’s captain.

“But you have to admit it _is_ a pain,” says Mingyu. “We have no idea if we’ll be welcome at Pledis or not — from what I’ve heard around town, students are pretty up their asses —"

“Let’s not take this personally,” says Wonwoo. “Their indoor facilities are renowned for its superiority, so to me we’re getting a much better end of the deal here."

“But we’re going to use the outdoor court,” interjects Hansol, pointing at the bottom of one of the sheets. “And we don’t know what that’s like."

Wonwoo shrugs apathetically. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad."

“Look, it’s temporary, it might not even be for the whole season,” says Seungcheol. "The fifteen minutes it takes us to get there we usually waste by fooling around before starting practice anyway. All we have to do is be focused right from the start so we can be more productive,” Seungcheol holds up a finger. “And make it an enjoyable time for everyone. Agreed?"

It signals the end of their discussion, and that’s how Seungcheol manages to keep the team together and hide his dread for the arduous daily commute for the foreseeable future.

 

#

 

“Uh, is it just me, or is this campus ridiculously pretty?"

Under any other circumstances, Soonyoung’s remark would probably have been ignored, but it’s clear that everyone feels awfully out of their depths as they step past Pledis University’s gates, down a wide, red-bricked path that leads to a massive square, buildings flanking both sides of it. The nearest ones to them seem to be made out of soft white and grey bricks that reflect off sunlight, giving them an almost ethereal, otherworldly glow. Seungcheol nearly balks when he sees the domes that rise between the buildings, soft blue and regal like a Western church’s dome, adorned with what seems to look like, from a distance, golden carvings along its bottom. The air is teeming with the usual hustle and bustle of academic life toned down to a muted quality, with the students shuffling past in their crisp, sleek attire, walking to their designated classes with an air of purpose around them. Not a single badly-dressed student is in sight, nor anyone passed out on the bench outside faculty buildings — sights they’ve become so familiar with over the years. In fact, Seungcheol feels as if the slightest noise they emit would disturb the tranquil balance Pledis has somehow managed to strike.

“Are you sure this is a campus and not a UNESCO heritage site?” Seungkwan whispers, sounding alarmed.

Seungcheol gives him a sidelong glance. “Do you even know of any UNESCO heritage sites?"

“No, but I’m sure they’d look something like this."

“I don’t belong here,” Seokmin whines. "I thought our campus was pretty enough because at least it wasn’t swimming in trash, but this… this is something else."

“Something else,” repeats Hansol, still gazing up at the massive lion statue at the entrance.

They continue their trek further into the campus, mostly peering around like children on a field trip and earning more than one curious looks from other students, but for the most part everyone is busy enough that they go by mostly unnoticed.

“The volleyball court should be over that way,” says Mingyu as he walks away from a noticeboard. “And I say _should_ because the map they’ve got pinned up is super old. The campus layout might have changed."

“Good job Mingyu, always steering the team back on course,” Seokmin claps him on the shoulder. “I think we should pay the cafeteria a visit first. I saw some really cute girls walk in —"

“Seokmin."

At least Seokmin has the decency to look sheepish, grinning as he catches up with the team. “Okay, okay, I’m coming."

Naturally, the volleyball court is spacious and pristine despite being outdoors. From where he’s standing, Seungcheol can now see that it’s a small part of a larger sporting facilities complex with jogging tracks that wind around the various buildings and outdoor courts. This, at the very least, is something they’re familiar with. The court they’ll be using is sandwiched between a double tennis court and a wide stretch of grass, presumably used for football, while several basketball courts are scattered around the area. It’s quiet at this hour, the only activity being a group of students having a relaxed rally on the tennis courts.

Seungcheol sets the bag of volleyballs on the ground, rolling his shoulders to get the ache out of them while the team clusters around in a noisy bunch.

“Right. So, we’ve all had a restful break, haven’t we?” The team dutifully voices their assent. “Good. Then there’s no excuse for not starting the season off with a bang —"

A collective groan interrupts his speech, but Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Come on, if we start the season with all this reluctance we’re never going to pick up steam. Three laps around the court as warm-up, let’s go!"

It doesn’t take them long to fall back into their practice routine. The whining really only lasts for the first ten minutes — past that, the atmosphere is practically charged with the team’s competitive streak once again with intermittent shouting of _Mine!_ and the occasional _Don’t mind it!_ when someone slips up. Although fatigue is clearly reaching them faster than usual after such a long period of inactivity, they manage to go through their pre-planned regimen with progressively sharper spikes and more solid receives, with the losing team even performing their diving punishment with an attitude of sincerity towards the end.

Being a university club team means everything is student-run from administrative tasks down to the coaching itself. Seungcheol tries not to delegate too much work to Soonyoung, their vice-captain; for one, he prefers micro-managing club affairs so he could keep an eye on everything with relative ease. Secretly, though, he knows Soonyoung is involved in one too many clubs than is probably good for him and the last thing Seungcheol wants is to make the volleyball club yet another burden on his shoulders. Out of all people, Seungcheol would know how shitty being a third-year can be. What impresses Seungcheol most is the way the team’s youngest, Hansol and Seungkwan, have been dealing with the administration work he often assigns them. All in all, the delegation of tasks has worked well and the club seems to be running without a hitch despite the absence of a teacher’s presence and support. So Seungcheol likes to give himself a bit of credit. After all, he's never been anything less than deadly serious as a captain.

Yet for some reason, today, he’s feeling a little distracted.

The scapegoat of his distraction lies adjacent to their space, where the tennis courts stretch out behind the almost transparent mesh screen. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye often and finds himself intrigued by the fluid movements of the players, their arms swinging in an almost rhythmic manner that hypnotises Seungcheol in the most inconvenient of times. The most potent disturbance of his practice, however, is one particular player on the tennis with honey-blonde, shoulder-length hair and a playing style that is paradoxical to a fault. Seungcheol finds himself drawn to the languid, lazy air that seems to surround the player’s every movement – and repeatedly taken aback by the contrast in his consistently sharp, precise hits. The best part is after such a near fatal blow, the player would sweep the hair out of his eyes and throw his head back in a languorous laugh.

At one point Seungcheol’s attention is so utterly monopolised by the tennis team that one of Soonyoung’s lethal spikes nearly hits him in the face, and he doesn’t have an explanation for it when it earns him more than one curious glance.

“Getting sidetracked, are we hyung?” teases Seungkwan, but Seokmin’s attempt at a float-serve actually succeeds and the conversation stops there.

Seungcheol is perfectly content with the uneventful yet productive practice session they’re having, especially when he had expected certain members to be grumbling about the unfamiliar grounds the entire time. He’s contemplating the growing maturity of his team as he tidies up, zipping up the bag of volleyballs and checking that no one has left their belonging behind when a shadow falls across his spot on the ground.

“Hey.”

Seungcheol looks up, and it’s the player standing there with a grin on his face — the player with the honey-blonde hair and an unsettlingly perplexing style of play.

“You’re not the school's volleyball team,” the player states, cocking his head.

“Oh — uh, hi.” Seungcheol scrambles up, honestly a little bewildered at being approached by a student from Pledis. He feels a little silly as he brushes court dust from his well-loved but worn out Adidas jersey; a shabby counterpart to this college athlete in a white, preppy tennis outfit with matching blue head and wristbands, his shirt still looking freshly pressed despite the sweat dripping down his face. “No, we aren’t the school’s volleyball team. We’re actually from University of Seoul.”

“Wow, impressive,” says the boy with widened eyes, never mind that he’s attending one of the most elite private universities in the country. “What brings you guys here then?"

“It’s kind of sad, but we got kicked out of our court by the university’s very own varsity team.” The boy barks out a surprised laugh, and Seungcheol shrugs. “Downsides of being a casual club, I guess."

“Well, you guys don’t _look_ casual,” insists the boy, and Seungcheol feels an embarrassing flutter in his stomach at the implication that his distracted, awestruck observations haven’t been totally one-sided.

“Nothing close to your level, though. I’m pretty sure that’s a celebrity coach you’ve got there."

“I wish. Don’t get fooled by his well-groomed appearance, because at least celebrity coaches tend to be on the softer side. This man’s a total villain.” The boy flicks hair out of his face. Then, as if he’d forgotten something important, hurriedly offers his hand. “Wait, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Yoon Jeonghan, captain of Pledis University’s tennis club. Fourth year."

He takes the outstretched hand firmly with a smile he hopes comes across as suave. “Choi Seungcheol, captain, volleyball club, Fourth year. Uh, a pleasure. And I think you should attach a ‘varsity’ to that ‘tennis club’?"

Jeonghan — his name sounds sweet in his mouth, or maybe Suengcheol is just being silly — rolls his eyes. “Okay, how’d you guess?"

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe it was the sharp, solid routine you’ve got going on. Or the customised outfit,” Seungcheol grins. “Yeah. Definitely the outfit."

“Hey, these were designed by our former captain."

“Precisely my point."

It’s a strange sensation, the feeling of having the ground figuratively pulled away from beneath your feet. When Jeonghan laughs this is what Seungcheol feels like — like there’s something abnormally peculiar with his shoes that makes the court floor turn to jelly, because Jeonghan’s unreserved laugh is more than a little disarmingly charming.

Seungcheol must have stared a little too blatantly, because the boy quickly dabs at his sweaty face self-consciously. “Sorry, it was our first practice today so I’m kind of… out of shape."

There’s a sudden urge for Seungcheol to bat the towel away, but they’ve only met so Seungcheol settles for something more mild. “You don’t look like it at all."

“Thanks, neither do you."

“It’s great meeting you,” blurts out Seungcheol, but thankfully Jeonghan takes this odd turn in conversation in stride with a smile.

“As to you. I can see us sharing common captaincy woes in the future.” Jeonghan huffs, the sound soft with amusement. "So how often will you be using our court?"

“More or less every day except Sundays, though our timings alternate daily to fit everyone’s class schedules."

Jeonghan nods. “Sounds like a tough routine you’ve got there."

“Yeah, but I’m lucky to have a team that's so passionate about the sport. Can you imagine having to train long and hard but knowing that your teammates _hate_ every second of it?” Seungcheol exaggeratedly shudders.

“That would be a nightmare."

“It would.”

An awkward silence ensues while Seungcheol racks his brain for something to say — he’s usually pretty good at conversations — but Jeonghan is already slinging his towel over one shoulder and wiggling his fingers in a wave. Seungcheol experiences a brief moment of panic before the easy smile on Jeonghan’s face reassures him that there will be a next conversation, a next meeting.

“See you around then?"

“Yeah,” replies Seungcheol, a genuine smile of his own on his lips. “See you, Jeonghan."

When Seungcheol has jogged back and caught up with the rest of his team, Seungkwan has a look of concern on his face. “Why was that Pledis student talking to you? We’re not about to become court-less, are we?"

“Don’t be silly, of course we’re not,” he claps Seungkwan’s shoulder. “And I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends with Pledis' varsity tennis team."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a series I started a while ago and I actually wrote a substantial amount of, but unfortunately it has stagnated for a while. With school being as busy as it is, I'm not sure if I'll have time to write properly in the future, especially this AU :( However I didn't want to let it go to waste, so instead of making a rather heavy/complicated plot like I originally planned, I decided I might update once in a while as a side project that I can come back to whenever I'm free! I'll keep things light and everything so yeah~
> 
> I hope you'll all enjoy it nevertheless! ♥ sorry for being the worst @ updating lmao literally how to get my shit together idk


	2. Get The Ball Rolling

It takes three more overlapping sessions for the two teams to finally meet each other. Unsurprisingly, Seungkwan gains the love of practically everyone on the tennis team by cracking one joke — even Jihoon, the team’s prized star player who seemed to prefer being detached from the general ruckus, warms up quickly to Seungkwan’s jokes and even humours Seokmin and Soonyoung’s over-enthusiastic quips. Truthfully, Seungcheol is a little overwhelmed and more than relieved to find that despite being a well-known varsity tennis team in Korea, the Pledis bunch are as far removed from the stereotypical image of snotty jocks. Even Jisoo and Junhui's slightly regal silence proves to be nothing more than polite shyness, quickly abandoned in favour of small talk with Hansol and Mingyu that eventually attracts the attention of Minghao and Chan as the conversation grows livelier. At some point Seungcheol almost loses track of his team with so many boys milling around the court, but he realises he doesn’t really mind — it’s kind of nice, being able to pretend they’re just one huge varsity team for a little while.   

Their stringent schedule leaves Seungcheol’s team little room for mingling but occasionally, when they end practice early, Seungcheol would walk the team back the long way to pass by the tennis court for a short chat. The routine works; it seems to take the edge off of an exhausting period of practice on top of schoolwork away, Seungcheol gets to talk to Jeonghan more often, and sometimes they can catch whiffs of the intensity emanating from the tennis court. Like today, for example.

“Shit man, look. I don’t think I’d be able to go to classes after a day of _that_.” Seokmin winces after Chan, the youngest but arguably the most ambitious member of the team, almost tumbled head-first trying to chase a wicked serve. 

“I mean, there’s a reason they’re competing in proper tournaments,” says Soonyoung, chewing on the pack of gummy bears he’d salvaged from the lockers. “That kind of glory comes with a hefty price, you know.”

“Do you think they’re all willing to pay that price?” asks Seokmin, sounding completely serious for once.

Soonyoung shrugs. “They’re all there, aren’t they? I don’t think they’d be staying out for so late if they didn’t choose to.”

Seungcheol should probably intervene his nosey teammates’ conversation, but truthfully Seungcheol is just as intrigued by their work ethic as the rest of his team is — but it remains something to admire and respect rather than dissect, so Seungcheol ends the discourse by patting Soonyoung’s back to get his attention and tilting his head in the direction of their bus stop.

 

#

 

It’s past nine on a Tuesday night and they’re still out on the court because Mingyu had been too much of a model student to skimp on the last hour of discussion when his seminar ran overtime. And honestly, Seungcheol would have been pretty annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that Jeonghan, free from club obligations after eight-thirty, is now keeping him company on the bench as they watch a three-on-three rally match. 

“Don’t you guys get tired?” sighs Jeonghan after thirty whole seconds of watching the players jump tirelessly around the court. “Just looking at them run around like that is putting me to sleep." 

“It’s supposed to be exciting enough to keep you awake,” pouts Seungcheol. 

“Guess I’m just too beat to pay attention." 

“Your practice sessions are always intense. Probably best if you head home then?” Seungcheol doesn’t really mean it, so he feels a guilty sense of relief when Jeonghan simply shrugs the suggestion off. 

“Nah, it’s alright. Don’t feel like going back to the depressing dorms just yet."

“Depressing?” repeats Seungcheol. “Pledis is _notorious_  for having world-class dorms." 

“Nah, it’s just... decent. People probably say that because we get dinner every day. Not that I can take advantage of that when practice always ends so late." Jeonghan ends this with a wrinkle of his nose, full of distaste, and the action distracts Seungcheol momentarily. “Speaking of, don’t think I’ve ever asked you what you’re majoring in." 

Feeling daring, Seungcheol shoots him a cocksure grin. “Guess." 

Jeonghan’s eyes seem to study him, roaming up and down his figure as if his appearance is somehow a testament of his major. He gives himself a quick glance — a pair of Nike shorts and a basic navy top, a pair of volleyball shoes that are probably half a year past their prime — and sees no indication of his course of choice. Not really, anyway. 

“This is hard,” whines Jeonghan as he bites his lips; an act so distracting Seungcheol has to look away and will himself to keep an eye on the game. “Don’t laugh, but… uh. Some kind of engineering?" And when Seungcheol makes a horrified face, "No? Wait, like, performance arts or something?" 

Seungcheol laughs anyway. “Nah, Phys Ed.”  

Jeonghan throws his arms in the air just as the blue side scores a point from one of Seokmin’s deadly serves. “ _Of course,_ how did I get that wrong?"

“I do like dancing and singing though, so you’re not terribly off the mark."

Jeonghan hums in delight. “I’d love to see _that_." 

“Yeah… not happening anytime soon. What about you?” he nudges Jeonghan with his knee. “What’re you studying?" 

“Guess,” mimics Jeonghan with Seungcheol’s earlier tone and earning him a light punch to the shoulder.  

“Hmm. Taking a wild shot here, but… Business?" 

The expression of pure surprise on Jeonghan’s face pulls a loud laugh out of Seungcheol. “You are either psychic, or you’re an avid stalker." 

“Or observant,” counters Seungcheol. “I saw your textbook in your bag once — _no,_ I didn’t snoop, you had it unzipped, lying on the court,” laughs Seungcheol when Jeonghan opens his mouth to protest.

“People always assume I’m into Musical Theatre or something along those lines. Do I give off that vibe? I’m glad someone’s at least paying attention to what I carry around. But yeah, business, with a concentration in marketing to be exact. Just in case you’re curious.” 

“What kind of things do you guys do?" 

“A lot more than just exercising,” teases Jeonghan, to which Seungcheol fakes a surprised expression with his mouth hanging open in what he hopes is a semi-attractive way. 

“Take that back, you have no idea what kind of excruciating biology classes I had to take in my first semester." 

“I haven't, thank god." 

It’s barely been two weeks since they’ve met and Seungcheol’s picked up on Jeonghan’s habit of tucking a strand of hair behind his left ear, but never his right. The other side he simply leaves alone to be messed up by whatever wind the summer weather brings, and Seungcheol thinks Jeonghan must know he looks _good_ , more than good like this. Almost like he’s not real, though it’s embarrassing to admit after only knowing him for such a short time. 

“Looks like they’ve completed a set.” There’s a nudge at Seungcheol’s side, and he looks up to see Jeonghan with his head tilted towards the net. “I think they need you on the court now."

“Right, I'll get going. Also, hey,” Seungcheol swivels in his seat towards Jeonghan. “Thanks for staying, but it’s okay if you want to go back now. It’s getting pretty late and you’re probably real exhausted after today." 

Jeonghan only shrugs with one shoulder. “I’m fine with staying. My dorm’s just a five-minute walk from here. Also, come on,” smirks Jeonghan. “I barely broke a sweat." 

“Okay. That’s a lie,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “But if you’re sure." 

Now it’s Jeonghan’s turn to roll his eyes. “Go on, your teammates are kind of sending death glares over."

They aren’t death glares, exactly, but Soonyoung does sling an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulders before he gets the chance to rattle off an encouraging statement fit for a leader. 

“Friends! We are facing dangerous times,” announces Soonyoung dramatically. “Our captain has found a reason to be content… on a bench! As a substitute!" 

“You're ridiculous,” laughs Seungcheol. “You’ll thank my diplomatic skills when we avoid getting kicked out a second time." 

“You really expect us to believe you’re doing this for _our_  well-being? For _logistical purposes_?” Seungkwan interjects, patting Seungcheol’s head in exaggerated affection.   

“That’s... kind of a stretch, even for Seungcheol-hyung,” quips Hansol, who usually refrains from commenting _ever_  and it makes the team break down in a fit of laughter, Seungcheol included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://curiouscat.me/aurics come and talk to me!!!
> 
> PS this story may undergo some minor changes along the way since I haven't finished writing the entire thing yet, but if such thing happens I'll definitely let it be known!


	3. Adjust Your Grip

Knowing Jisoo like the back of his own palm — they have, after all, been friends since elementary school — means Jeonghan knows perfectly well that there are only a handful of things that can send Jisoo in a worried frenzy, with the latter almost always so composed in behaviour and mild in temperament. While the team would never deny claims about his playful nature, they also see Jisoo as the neutraliser; the oasis in a merciless desert, the calm tide amidst waves of stressed-out college students who’ve got far too much on their plate than their measly 24 hours in a day can handle. Or, to put it less dramatically, the friend who everyone knows they can lean back on and relax with at the end of a tense day.

So naturally, Jeonghan had been taken aback when Jisoo approached him with a concern. It was mid-July, and the two were the first to arrive at the court for a quick warm-up after a long break. 

“You know, with the volleyball team’s absence…” Jisoo had said. “Don’t you think it’ll get too quiet around here?"

“Are you kidding me?” Jeonghan had laughed in reply. “You know our team makes plenty of noise as it is. I’m going to miss hanging out with them after practice, sure, but this season is going to be so hectic, Jisoo. I doubt we’ll have time to ourselves when schedules get so tough, much less hang out with other people." 

“But that’s exactly what I’m worried about,” countered Jisoo with a frown. “We’d get swallowed up by the fixtures without any breathing room. Without company the court will be all we know, aside from classes, and the next minute we’re going to have a team full of mindless zombies that’s underperforming because they do nothing but tennis all day." 

At the time, Jeonghan had brushed it off as a case of Jisoo being a worrywart, but it was obvious that the team had been a little more sullen than usual without their next-court-neighbour. Not that they didn’t find ways to play with each other, but after a mere 2 weeks of grueling pre-season training sessions under the still-scorching July evening sun they’re beginning to miss the prolonged breaks they’d have messing about on the volleyball court, sabotaging whatever practice match was being held.

The arrival of Seungcheol’s volleyball team a little over two weeks ago, as unexpected as it was, proves to be a godsend move both for Jeonghan and the team. The mood during their practice sessions have significantly improved—they no longer make a beeline for the trek back home after tired, relieved goodbyes, eager to get away from anything that reminds them of tennis. Instead, they stick around in the air-conditioned locker room (mercifully away from the suffocating humidity outside) to ‘discuss’ the peculiar addition to their campus sports facilities—among which are the re-telling of Soonyoung’s brilliant spike and Hansol’s latest song recommendations.

“Sorry for not taking you seriously when you said it would suck without the big guys,” Jeonghan says, smiling lop-sidedly at Jisoo. “I guess I was just determined for the team to focus on the important matches as much as possible." 

Jisoo smiles and throws an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder, but immediately regrets it when it comes away sticky. “Oh my god, go take a shower." 

“Later,” whines Jeonghan, sliding further down the bench in their changing room where the rest of the team is sitting in a disorganised circle. “I’m still tired." 

“I know you’re worried about being captain this season, but having new friends isn’t going to distract us. You know that, right?” 

“Jisoo hyung! Jeonghan hyung, listen! Soonyoung hyung taught me how to dig yesterday,” Chan unknowingly cuts their conversation off with his exclamation from the other end of the changing room. “And now I can even do it with a tennis ball. Look!” 

Chan throws the little green ball up into the air and extends his arms as he takes up a squatting position, and aims his forearms so the ball would bounce up again in a perfectly controlled receive. His smile is overwhelmingly proud in comparison of such a small act that Jeonghan can’t help but be endeared. 

“That’s great, Chan. But did you practice your sliced backhand?" 

“Of course! I showed Minghao hyung my shots and he said they were perfect."

“Not _perfect_ ,” retros Minghao as he pulls on a clean shirt. “I said it was _passable_.”

“See?” Jisoo says when Jeonghan finishes placating Chan by saying _yes, his effort today is good enough, calm down now_. “Every single person here is dedicated, determined and very, very talented. Taking a break will be good for us. For you too." 

Jeonghan doesn’t miss the slight change in Jisoo’s tone. He raises an eyebrow, amused. “What are you talking about?" 

“You seem to hit it off with their captain pretty well." 

Ah, Seungcheol. It would be a lie for Jeonghan to say he hasn’t been looking forward to their meeting after each overlapping practice session—but how can anyone feel otherwise when faced with such a gentle, kind boy with a gummy smile who is also an easy conversationalist? 

“Look, he’s an amazing guy. He’s funny, friendly, polite, and definitely knows what he’s doing." 

“Not to mention he’s got great thighs to boot." 

Jeonghan gapes at him. “Jisoo!" 

“What? Junhui pointed it out."

“Of course he did,” mutters Jeonghan. “So, he’s someone I can strike a conversation with easily enough. What? Can’t a guy make casual friends without getting accused of harbouring a crush nowadays?"

“Woah, woah, never said that,” Jisoo puts up his hands in defense. 

“You _insinuated_ it." 

“Just thought he’d be good for you, is all,” says Jisoo. He picks up the water bottle that’s been thrown carelessly to the ground and takes a sip. “What’s with the intercollegiate coming up soon and all. September huh? A month and a half. I know how much that… means to you." 

“You can say how much it stresses me out, it’s fine,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Are you going to go for Single matches this year?” 

“I mean, I guess so, why not? It’s my last year, might as well try. I’ve got nothing to lose by trying, and if it means I get to go up against the most competitive athletes in Korea’s universities then I’m all up for it,” laughs Jisoo before his tone dips back down to sombre. “There’s a lot of expectations, playing a Single though. Especially considering our school’s track record—it’ll be a tall order for sure, huh?” 

“Mmm,” is all Jeonghan says in reply. Jisoo nudges him. 

“What about you? Are you going for them as well, or just Doubles?” 

Jeonghan smiles at him, a little taut in the corners. Jisoo thinks he looks a little sad when he says, “I have to. I’m the captain, aren’t I? What would people think if the captain isn’t even considered one of the best players in the team?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of update!!! (and coupjeong in this chapter whoops I promise it'll pick up soon) but I'm on a break now! Which should mean I'll have more time to work on fics but I don't think that's the case because I'm still stuck... with uni work...
> 
> I do try to research for my fics but as you can probably tell, my knowledge on tennis is very limited so I apologise if I make some glaring errors!!
> 
> ♥


	4. Look Ahead

Mid-August comes with the general anxiety of having their summer break come to an end. Of course, being involved in club activities means you barely had any to begin with—Seungcheol himself has only managed to spare a week to go back to Daegu and his teammates have had similarly slim breathing space, with the exception of Hansol who was absent for three weeks on a trip back to his mother’s hometown New York. The boy had been profusely apologetic the entire time, wouldn’t stop saying ‘sorry’ whenever he called or texted any of his teammates until they made a unanimous agreement to never pick up or respond to Hansol’s _anything_ until he got back.

At this memory, Seungcheol is once again reminded of how lucky he is to have a team as committed as his and he makes sure to never take it for granted.  

That’s why he’s currently running to his bus stop at eight-fifty on a Saturday morning, all the while pathetically attempting to shove back his belongings that are threatening to spill out of his half-zipped sports bag. With classes starting up shortly Seungcheol thought it’d be best to fit in as many morning practices as possible because it would be unfeasible to have any once the Fall semester starts. No one would enjoy getting up at 7am, morning class or not. But he’d overslept, and woke up to a couple (or more like dozens) of texts from Seungkwan asking _where the heck are you I thought we had to be at Pledis by 8_  so now he feels guilty for letting his team down.   

He barely manages to slip between the bus doors and stands near the entrance panting, trying not to hack up a fuss nor his measly breakfast back out and ignoring the looks he must be getting from other early riders. It isn’t until he lifts his head up to search for an empty seat that he spots a familiar face. 

“Jihoon?" 

Seungcheol's slightly breathless exclamation must have startled the boy because the earphones he’s trying to stuff in clatters to the floor of the bus, rolling away pathetically as they turn a corner. 

“Shoot, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Seungcheol says, panicking as he picks the earphones up off the ground because they haven’t exchanged many words, not really anyway. 

But different to the quiet, almost intimidating demeanour he’d first exuded, after a couple of weeks into their first meeting Jihoon becomes a little easier to talk to, more generous with his smiles and loud laughs which eases Seungcheol’s nervousness somewhat.

Jihoon picks the dangling earphones up from Seungcheol’s outstretched hand. “It’s okay, just wasn’t expecting anyone here.”

“Ah—yeah. Of course.”

Still a little disoriented, Seungcheol stays standing there looking stupid, gripping at the poles behind the seat as the bus sways slightly. Jihoon notices, and misreads this. He shifts one seat over to sit by the window. “Want to sit?”

It’s not a _bad_ misinterpretation, per se, just a little awkward. The bus is almost empty so Seungcheol really has no reason to invade someone else’s privacy and probably much-needed alone time on an early bus ride but Jihoon _offered,_ and Seungcheol isn't opposed to having company to power him through the morning _._ He can’t help the grateful sigh of relief when he collapses into the seat next to Jihoon. “Yeah—sure. Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.”  

The ensuing silence makes Seungcheol feel bad that Jihoon probably offered him the seat out of politeness, but when he casts a glance at the other boy he seems relaxed and completely unbothered, so Seungcheol allows himself another soft sigh and tension to seep out of his form. He hears a quiet chuckle.

“You seem strung up. Late to something?” 

“Huh?” Seungcheol blinks, remembers how he got himself into this semi-mess and runs a hand over his tired face. “Uh, yeah, I was supposed to meet the team almost an hour ago for training. Overslept…” 

“Ah. Eight in the morning though, must be rough.”

“Yeah,” mumbles Seungcheol like he wasn’t the one who made the conscious decision of setting their training schedule himself. “It’s not a permanent thing though, just until the term starts.” 

Jihoon whistles low. “Geez, I hope not, wouldn’t have much of a volleyball team a couple of weeks in, would you?” 

“Trust me, they may complain every time they have to wake up but they’ll be the ones _begging_ for extra training hours.”

“Wow. That dedicated?”

“Nah, it’s an excuse to skip out on lectures.”

 Jihoon really lets out a loud laugh then, unreserved with a force that throws his head back onto the back of the bus seat and Seungcheol can’t help the grin that creeps onto his face. He never pegged Jihoon to be one so easily amused, but he finds new ways to be surprised the longer he spends time with any of the Pledis team. 

“Guess everyone’s the same, athletes or not, huh?”

“Mmhm. What about you? Training too?”

“Nah, we’ve got the day off today. I have to run by one of my professors about a coursework I’m completing. Miraculously he still puts up office hours over the break. The bad news is that it’s once a week on a Saturday morning of all days. Don’t ask me why, it’s a pain but I’ve got no choice—gotta keep up that GPA.”

“Wow, Jeonghan wasn’t kidding when he said you were the star student." 

“He said that about me?” Jihoon asks, clearly amused. 

“He said, and I quote, ‘Ah, our Jihoonie, star player and star student! Pride and joy of our club.’”

“ _Oh my god,_ how embarrassing.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Seungcheol says, perhaps a little too wistfully because it makes Jihoon turns slightly in his seat like a rabbit whose interest is piqued.

“You know, after practice Jeonghan is always the first to leave for his dorm and his bed. He sleeps whenever he can.”

“Hmm. He did mention something about that to me once,” muses Seungcheol, unable to help his lips from curving up in a smile. “How he practically runs on powernaps.”

“Funnily enough, the captain’s been trading his precious sleep hours for conversations _."_

It takes Seungcheol exactly three seconds to finally understand what Jihoon is implying. “Oh, with me? Yeah, it’s been really nice of him. Definitely makes me—and by extension, the team—feel a lot more welcome at Pledis." 

“You think it’s a gesture of hospitality?” 

From his tone Seungcheol can’t surmise whether Jihoon finds it funny or surprising, but the boy looks like he’s hiding something behind the slight upturn of his lips. “Huh. My teammates asked me something very similar. Am I missing something?”

“What do you guys talk about?" Jihoon asks instead of answering.

Seungcheol thinks carefully, recollecting pieces of their conversation that aren’t tinted with perhaps irrational affection on his part. “Just school, families, our respective clubs. Nothing special, really.“ 

“Ah, I see.” Jihoon doesn’t pry further, but seems to be deep in thought for a while before he turns to Seungcheol with a small smile, his eyes crinkling a little at the ends. “He might be a little tough to get to at first, but don’t let that intimidate you.”

“Tough?” Seungcheol repeats, a little surprised. “I don’t think he’s been making it particularly difficult to make conversations, to be honest. He's been really...” God, is Seungcheol bad for words. "Really nice."

“I mean, when you want to know him better, get him to talk about more things… outside of small talk. It gets tiring after a while, doesn’t it?”

Of course, Seungcheol’s wanted to prod at the boundaries of their conversations many times—when practice is especially gruelling, for example, during which Seungcheol wants nothing more than another shoulder to lean on; or when their conversations dwindle off to silence, leaving behind traces of anticipation, like unanswered questions being hung in the air that he desperately wants to pluck out and share the answers with. Seungcheol has never been one to coax anyone out of their shells, preferring instead to lay _himself_ bare first and letting others open up in their own time. Yet he can’t pretend he doesn’t want to be the one to the push the curtains around Yoon Jeonghan apart, tie them up together and reveal the sunshine behind them.  

Jihoon asks an apparently burning question about the volleyball and the conversation teeters off in this direction for the rest of the bus ride. Seungcheol is surprised by how much he enjoys Jihoon’s company. Jihoon is easy to talk to in a nonchalant, detached way, and Seungcheol finds it nice how he doesn’t have to shoulder the burden of keeping the conversation going because Jihoon doesn’t mind the chatter naturally petering out.  

“Well, here’s our stop.” Jihoon tips his chin towards the digital display that says _Pledis University_. They both hop off the bus, Seungcheol significantly more frazzled than Jihoon at the fact that he’s running more than one and a half hours late.    

“Shit, I really gotta go now. So sorry to rush you but I’ll see you around?” 

Jihoon nods in reply. "Yep, for sure. See you." 

 

 

# 

 

 

“I think it’s time we practice a different attack tempo.” Seungcheol swivels towards Soonyoung, who is still stretched out on the floor. “What do you think?"  

Soonyoung squints against the sun, considering this. “I don’t know how ready our first and second tempo combination is yet so I was wondering if we could spend more time on it? We’ve got another tat least hree weeks until matches start up. Seokmin’s naturally more used to the different tempos than the rest since he’s been on attack for so long, but Wonwoo’s a little…" 

“I get you,” Seungcheol hums. “But if it’s just Wonwoo you’re concerned about, it’d probably better to practice with him for an hour or so after each session with whoever’s willing to stay back and move on for a bulk of the time. Just so we don’t come to a stagnant point, you know?" 

The two leaders stare at each other, seemingly in a silent debate until Soonyoung nods. “Yeah, you’re right, it’d be unfair for those who are up to pace. Classes only start next week and I expect work to only start piling up a while after that, so I’ll be pretty free for the next couple of weeks. Maybe until the end of next month." 

“You sure you haven't got much composing to do?” Seungcheol asks out of genuine worry.  

“The kind of composing I’ve dabbled in myself is still pretty juvenile, so nah. More like arrangements, stuff like that."  

Reaching out to give Soonyoung two firm pats on his shoulder, Seungcheol tries his best to give a reassuring smile. “Proud of you for juggling work and club so well." 

“I could say the same to you, even if you don’t major in Performance Arts, the most labour-heavy programme in our uni. Sometimes I'm convinced I've just signed myself up for a job with long hours with no pay, honestly,” laughs Soonyoung, sitting up. “It's getting late. Let’s round the boys up." 

With varying degrees of enthusiasm, the team replies to the leaders’ call and trudges across the court.  

“I’m so tired I’m going to _die_." 

“Seungkwan,” Soonyoung’s tone is light but his face is a mask of seriousness and stern discipline. “What did I say about negative talk?" 

Said boy gives a sheepish grin, and the tension dissipates just like that.

They huddle together in the corner of the court under the glare of the floodlights with the sun setting low over the horizon. It paints a pretty streak of orange across the sky, and Seungcheol thinks this team meeting looks like something out of a drama as he stands in front of six expectant-looking volleyball players, repeating his plan for future practices.  

“We need to make sure we can run as fast an offence as possible. So,” he clasps his hands together once he’s finished. “For the extra sessions to be productive we’ll need at least three people to stay behind. Aside from Wonwoo and Soonyoung, is there anyone else willing to give up some of their time in the evening?" 

Mingyu raises his hand without delay, lips pursed in something that looks a little like determination. “I’ll stay." 

“You don’t have to,” mumbles Wonwoo, nudging him with an elbow. “I know you’ve got night classes." 

“I want to practice for longer,” replies Mingyu stubbornly, which seems to irk Wonwoo for some reason as the latter lets out a long-suffering sigh but eventually resorts to brooding silently.

Seungcheol blinks, the rest of the team oddly quiet in mild curiosity. He clears his throat and moves on after deciding it’s none of his business; not until it starts affecting team dynamics, anyway. “Okay, good. Anyone else? Please don’t feel in any way obligated to say yes. We know your studies must stay as a priority." 

“I can hang back,” Seungkwan raises an arm. “But probably not on Wednesdays, because I’ve got acapella rehearsals then." 

“That’s great. Is that all?” Several heads nod, and Seungcheol smiles. “In that case, I’ll see you all tomorrow evening. Thanks again everyone, always a pleasure." 

After packing up the paraphernalia of their practice sessions, Seungcheol trudges away from the court with a light heart knowing that their schedule for the next couple of weeks is bound to be productive, albeit a little intense. He’s pleased, but not surprised, to see Jeonghan standing by the gates waiting for him, his own gear slung over his shoulder in a sleek black sports bag. What _does_ surprise him is seeing Jihoon and Jisoo there as well.   

“Long day?” asks Jeonghan once Seungcheol catches up, eyeing his lethargic steps. 

“Not much longer than yours, apparently.” Seungcheol waves a hand. “Hey Jihoon, Jisoo. I thought you guys finished up earlier?" 

“We did. We just had a couple of things to discuss with the coach." 

“Oh, okay.” Seungcheol tips his head in the direction of the exit. “So… you guys heading back home now?" 

“Actually, we want to go grab drinks just before we crash home. Thought you might like to join us!” Jeonghan sing-songs this last part and slings an arm around Seungcheol's shoulders. For all Jeonghan's seriousness on the court, Seungcheol can’t help but treasure these lapses in character; times when Jeonghan acts a little more carefree, away from the tight nervousness that comes with tennis; more like Yoon Jeonghan  _the musical theatre student_ as opposed to _the tennis team’s captain_. 

Savouring the heat emanating from where Jeonghan's arm is resting on his shoulder, Seungcheol finds it easy to be persuaded, hard to brush him off. And, well, with Jisoo and even Jihoon looking back at him expectantly, it’s practically impossible for Seungcheol to turn the offer down. 

“Alright. But I’m not in charge of taking care of you lightweights." 

“Who are you calling lightweights?” cries Jeonghan indignantly. “You’re practically asking for a drink-off at this point." 

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo’s voice is stern. “You said you’ll drink responsibly tonight."

"But we have a special guest tonight!"

"I really am not a special guest—"

Jeonghan nudges Seungcheol's side with a sharp elbow, ignoring his yelp and hissing, " _Yes you are_."

" _Jeonghan_ ," repeats Jisoo, every syllable elongated in threat and it's only then that Jeonghan lets out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Fine." He turns to Seungcheol with a pout, eyes narrowed and voice dropping to a low murmur. “Jisoo here doesn’t drink, so he _always_ has to be the party pooper."

“I heard that. And also, I like to call it _the voice of reason_." 

They walk for a little over ten minutes before stopping in front of a bar that bears a purplish neon sign, but is otherwise devoid of ostentatious decoration. Seungcheol is quite familiar with this kind of establishments (the student-friendly bars that are always peppered around in the vicinity of campuses) and is not at all surprised to find that the inside is more quaint than the outside. The bar is laid out like a typical English pub—Seungcheol knows this from the odd British series he’d streamed back in his freshman yearcwith a pool table in the corner that is attracting a swarm of regulars. Several groups of students that occupy the tables orchestrate a jovial but relatively calm atmosphere with their loud chatter, paying no heed to the papers strewed around them as if stepping into the room has levied a temporary hold on their deadlines. Only an older man and a couple sit at the bar, where the bartender seems intent on concocting a serious drink for a serious-looking business man. 

“Well, this is nice,” and Seungcheol means it whole-heartedly, but Jeonghan snorts in reply. 

“I know. Trust Jisoo to bring us to the most boring place on Earth."  

Jisoo rolls his eyes. “No one needs you waking up hungover and incapacitated before the term _and_ season even started." 

“No, no, I mean it genuinely, it’s _truly_ nice,” repeats Seungcheol, insistent on not being misunderstood. “And Jisoo's right, you should get wasted only for a good reason—finishing up a weekday training session isn't worth the headache tomorrow, Jeonghan." 

“Finally, someone with some sense,” quips Jihoon. 

“Seungcheol, you were supposed to be on _my_ side this entire time so we could make it even!” Jeonghan complains as he clicks his tongue and frowns, making Seungcheol laugh as he suppresses the sudden desire to pinch the other boy’s cheek (or worse, pull him into a hug). 

Two customers leave the long bar table, freeing up enough space for the small group to secure their spots. Soon, Seungcheol finds himself wedged between Jisoo and Jeonghan, with Jihoon two seats to his right taking the initiative to order for all of them. 

“As long as it’s not orange-flavoured, any soda is fine,” Jisoo says to Jihoon before turning to Seungcheol with a smile. “So how are you finding Pledis? You can be honest, don’t worry.”  

Maybe the way Seungcheol’s gaze flits over to Jeonghan says a lot more than what his words can, and he tries to catch himself before he gets called out on it. But when Jisoo and Jihoon show no signs of noticing he feels slightly less mortified. “It’s been a lot better than I expected. Honestly, the facilities are great and of course, having you guys makes training a thousand times easier to bear. It was a bit of a pain at first to get used to the commute, but fifteen minutes on a bus isn’t that big of a deal anymore, really." 

“Not a big deal unless you wake up half an hour late,” cackles Jihoon and Seungcheol starts to mumble some unintelligible defense before Jeonghan cuts in.  

“Wait a second, how do you know what Seungcheol got up to in the morning?” he leans into Seungcheol’s space consparitorially to whisper dangerously close, “What has the tennis team been doing behind my back?"  

“Calm down, we just bumped into each other last week on the bus and he was late to practice.” 

The bartender places three glasses of beer in front of them and a tall glass of soda for Jisoo just as Jeonghan cracks a laugh. “So Choi Seungcheol makes mistakes too sometimes, huh?”

Seungcheol hides an embarrassed smile behind his hand. There are too many butterflies in his stomach that it starts to tickle a lot. Jeonghan should never address him by his full name again. “Why do you say that?" 

Humming, Jeonghan taps the handle of his glass and tilts his head in Seungcheol's direction. “Just that you seem to have everything under control all the time, so I want to see you fazed by something for a change." 

Seungcheol doesn't know how to respond to that, so he brings his glass to his lips instead. 

Soon, the four of them find themselves deep in conversations, and despite his tired limbs Seungcheol is being kept happily awake. With every question and reply Seungcheol is learning a little bit more about the tennis team. Not to mention that with every sip of his drink, Jihoon’s barrier crumbles down bit by bit to expose a much chattier side that Seungcheol has never encountered before; he’s carefree with his laughter, so loud that it makes several heads turn in the already noisy bar. Jisoo kindly tells him that Jihoon isn’t only like this when he’s drunk.

"He can be nice when he's sober, too," Jisoo chuckles.

Jeonghan holds his liquor well—perhaps as good as Seungcheol, who prides himself in his alcohol tolerance that has seen no match thus far.

“Shame,” Seungcheol pouts when he relays this observation to Jeonghan. “I was hoping to see what kind of drunk you’d be."  

“You’re going to have to try harder than _this_ ,” teases Jeonghan as he swirls his drink, letting the liquid slosh around in his glass. “This stuff is weak as baby milk. Or did you think I was a lightweight?" 

“Not really, just never thought I’d come across someone who could keep up with me, is all."

"Oooh, is that a challenge?" 

Seungcheol laughs. "No, I'm trying to _make_  drinking friends and refrain from scaring them away, thank you very much."

There’s a twinkle in Jeonghan’s eye as he says, “In which case... I guess it’s a match made in heaven, huh?" 

Passing phrase it may be, Seungcheol latches onto every word like they’re drops of rain and he’s a plant deprived of water—is Jeonghan referring to their drinking capacities, or is he talking about their teams meeting under anomalous circumstances, yet are somehow making it work? Perhaps he means _them_ , they’re a match made in heaven: Seungcheol and Jeonghan— 

Seungcheol takes a quick swig of his drink to eliminate this train of thought clearly inappropriate for a casual friendship outing, hoping it will calm him down some—but all the breath he’s worked on steadying runs away in erratic successions again when he turns around to see Jeonghan facing him, but not staring at him. Well, not really. 

Jeonghan staring very, very intently at Seungcheol’s lips. 

Suddenly the beer in his hand is too cold, yet he feels a little too hot even under the thin training shirt he has on. Jeonghan's gaze is clear and unwavering albeit a little heavy-lidded, weighed down by the alcohol in his system, maybe, but nonetheless so, so piercing—so much so that Seungcheol is afraid of moving, desperately not wanting to snap Jeonghan out of his trance because only now does Seungcheol realise just how good it feels to be in the receiving end of his attention.

It's then that Seungcheol realises how desperately he wants to spend time with Jeonghan outside of the one, two hours they steal after every training session. He wants to know what Jeonghan's laugh sounds like without the fatigue, the kind of brunch places he'd suggest, the kinds of dish he'd order and how Jeonghan prepares for his classes (if he does at all). Seungcheol wants to know what Jeonghan would talk about when he has someone lying in bed beside him at night, what his kisses taste like, what he'd say before dropping off to sleep.

Seungcheol so badly wants to understand what it is that makes Jeonghan truly happy, and be able to give him exactly that.

Unfortunately, the train of thought is quickly shattered when Jihoon taps Jeonghan’s shoulder and startles him into being alert. To Seungcheol, however, the feeling still lingers.

“Hey, wakey wakey cap, it’s not our bedtime yet. When’s the first matches of the season again?" 

Jeonghan, for all it's worth, sounds mildly disgruntled. “Less than three weeks? You can check again in the calendar. Our kits should be done by then, too."

"Customised kits, huh," says Seungcheol slowly in mild wonder. "Sometimes I wonder about the kind of budget you're all working with."

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but the smile stays on his face. "We're only getting them renewed now after a couple of years. The team captain was supposed to be in charge of it but—well." Jeonghan makes a face. "Turns out that new captain is me."

Seungcheol frowns. "Wait, I'm not following."

Jeonghan puts his glass down, sneaks a glance at Jisoo and Jihoon who seem to be engaged in a conversation about some kind of musical they're planning to watch and decides to continue the conversation himself. "Well, the way the club works is that the captaincy is supposed to run until the end of the year—December, to be exact, with the term starting in January. Our previous captain... he was amazing, the ace of the team, everyone respected him, was even the top student in his cohort. None of us were surprised to know some foreign company scouted him and offered him a half-year internship, even when he hasn't even graduated, but it meant that we had to find a replacement captain real quick." Jeonghan places a hand under his chin and grins. "And that's me."

"Wow, that's really brave of you." Seungcheol means it—it took him almost a month to decide he's ready to take on the role of a captain. He can't imagine having to do it under such time pressure. 

Jeonghan seems pleased by this comment, but his smile remains subdued. He leans closer into Seungcheol's space, and they're so close now Seungcheol can feel the ticklish caress of Jeonghan's every word. "Yeah, but... don't tell the others, but I do think everyone's got high expectations this season."

"Of the team?"

"Of  _me_ ," counters Jeonghan, and it's only then that Seungcheol notices the tiny downturn in his smile. "Imagine coming back from a season of success with a star-studded captain. You would have high expectations too, wouldn't you?"

Competitive by nature, Seungcheol ponders over this scenario and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I would."

Seemingly satisfied with having his thoughts confirmed, Jeonghan draws back and stretches his arms. "That's why I'm going to work real hard to bring the team to victory this season, starting with getting through preliminaries and knocking the socks off all my opponents thereafter! Every hour, every minute is precious, and I'm not going to let any distractions stand in my way."

Jeonghan accentuates this by standing up and waving his arms in great arches, as if he's on the court returning serves in quick successions. It catches the attention of Jisoo and Jihoon, who try to wrestle him back into his seat. It peels another round of laughter out away from Seungcheol despite the disappointment settling in his chest.

He looks up, takes one last sip of his drink and smiles at Jeonghan's slightly flushed and indignant face, committing each frown and each stray strand of hair to memory. He might as well savour every moment possible from now on.

Every hour, every minute Seungcheol spends _together with Jeonghan_ is precious, and Seungcheol contemplates the possibility that their opinions are incompatible in this respect.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gross how slowly i write!! this story is getting a major overhaul from what i initially wrote though aahh i'm sorry it's going at a very slow pace!! hopefully the plot will move along a little quicker now even i'm sick of my own writing zzzz


	5. Decision Making

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: discussions of commitment issues, just in case anyone needed a head's up!

A few days later, it’s Seungcheol’s turn to keep Jeonghan company as his team slaves through a late-afternoon practice session. It isn’t his _turn,_ not really — they’ve never had an explicit agreement about such an arrangement, nor anything else they happen to do together, but when Jeonghan had whined about the extra session they have to fit in before the intercollegiate season kicks off Seungcheol didn’t think twice about checking his schedule and making sure his seminar would be finished by then.  

“I’ll come to distract you then,” he had joked, a thinly veiled insecurity in disguise, to which Jeonghan had replied just as wittily.  

“You’re right, it’s a bad idea for you to come,” Jeonghan stage-sighed, before casting a sideways grin. “Good thing I’m not averse to bad ideas, huh?" 

That’s how Seungcheol finds himself slouching under the mercifully shaded bench, confused out of his wits. Despite it being late in the afternoon, the sun still stings and the humidity is stifling even with the thin, white shirt Seungcheol’s thrown on after practice—and it only makes every thought in his head hurt even worse. 

_Good thing I’m not averse to bad ideas?_ Seungcheol resists the urge to hurl his disposable water bottle right at Jeonghan’s—pretty, very pretty and soft and beautifully distracting—head. In the few days since they’ve last seen each other, Jeonghan has dyed his hair a chestnut brown and cut it to a short length that seems to puff up whenever he stretches to return a serve, and it’s only aggravating Seungcheol’s frustration. _Just a few days ago, he said he’s not going to tolerate any distractions. And now he’s asking for some?_ If his eyes had a power source, surely Seungcheol would be burning holes at the back of Jeonghan’s head by now from how much he’s glaring. But just as suddenly as the annoyance had come about, it ebbs away and leaves behind only a tired, resigned sense of confusion. 

Their friendship is only in its infancy, and for someone with Jeonghan’s work ethic and tenacity, with all the expectations resting on his shoulders and most probably weighing him down like shackles—Seungcheol wouldn’t want to break his concentration by making what is shaping up to be an innocent friendship into something Jeonghan can’t commit to. Even if Jeonghan is _slightly_ interested in him—which isn’t all that far-fetched, Seungcheol thinks, even if he still isn’t convinced of Jeonghan’s _preferences_ —Seungcheol doesn’t want to be a chore, a burden. An extra shackle around his already chafing ankles.

After a series of rallies, the tennis team simmers down to a series of breathless cheers that signal a break. Seungcheol watches Jeonghan jog away to refill his water bottle when the bag next to him—Jeonghan’s, he notes—vibrates.

“Jeonghan-ah!” He calls out. Jeonghan’s head swings in his direction while the rest of his team appears unpertrubed—Seungcheol’s presence, it seems, has become a given. “I think your phone is ringing." 

“Right. Just a sec!” He jogs back and quickly pulls out his phone, giving the caller ID a quick glance before pressing the device to his ear. “Hello?"

Seungcheol tries not to eavesdrop—he really, really tries, but Jeonghan doesn’t move away, so he makes it impossible for him to block out the conversation. 

What takes him aback the most is the soft tone Jeonghan is suddenly adopting, so different from his usually brash, often loud voice Seungcheol’s accustomed to. “Mmm, I’m still practicing. I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet in the weekend, I’ve got quizzes I need to study for next week. What’s that?” Here, Jeonghan chuckles, and even though he’s turned away Seungcheol can imagine the smile on his face. “I miss you too. I promise I’ll free up one of my days next week. Have you eaten?"

The conversation continues on in the same intimate manner for long enough that Seungcheol feels increasingly uncomfortable. He’s contemplating excusing himself to the toilet when Jeonghan finally hangs up, his demeanour and wide grin clear indications of a spike in his mood. 

“Good call?” asks Seungcheol innocently, to which Jeonghan replies with a cheerful _uh-huh!_ “She cute? Your girlfriend? Actually, I’ve never seen her with the team.”

Jeonghan spins to give him a funny look. “What are you talking about? That was my sister.” He bends down to slip his phone back into his sports bag. “I’m free as a bird right now. Well, I guess it depends on the type of bird—nevermind. Plus, I don’t exactly… swing that way."

“Swing that...? Oh. _Oh._ ” Realisation dawns on him that _this_ confirmation is what Seungcheol has been anticipating all along, almost like the final seal of approval. Jeonghan must have misconstrued his lack of response because he nervously brushes his hair out of his face, eyes a little restless. 

“Sorry if — if that bothers you." 

Seungcheol looks up in alarm. “What? What — no, _no_ , Jeonghan, not even a little bit. I’m — me too, actually. Well, _both_ ways, but no. It definitely does not bother me in any way." 

Relief is evident on Jeonghan’s face as he gives a loud laugh. Wordlessly, Seungcheol scoots over to make space on the bench, urging Jeonghan to sit with him. 

“If you’re expecting a dramatic coming out story, I’m going to have to disappoint you. It all went by too normally that sometimes I still think it was all a dream — I realised I liked a guy, asked him out, dated him as discreetly as I could, and that was that." 

“That’s great. Not a lot of people get to find out without a hitch, you know.” He thumbs a strand of loose thread on his shirt. “Um… you said you were ‘free as a bird’. What happened to that boy?” 

“Please never repeat my attempts at sounding poetic ever again,” he whines, but shakes his head. “It lasted a while, but honestly I knew it wouldn’t work out in the long-haul. Broke up at the end of last year.” Jeonghan glances at Seungcheol, and he notes a tinge of weariness in it. “Academic year.”

_Okay, calm down_ , Seungcheol tries not to panic. The end of the academic year was two months ago at most, maybe three if Jeonghan finished his classes early—but Seungcheol isn’t sure if such a timeframe is enough to get over a relationship that ‘lasted a while’ in Jeonghan’s books. 

“What happened? I mean, only if you don’t mind,” Seungcheol quickly says. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Not at all. It’s not anything particularly interesting. It’s just,” Jeonghan sighs, wrestling with his words. “I couldn’t do it, you know—juggle him and tennis. And later on, as he wanted, prioritised him over tennis,” Jeonghan winces, like the idea hurts him. “I know I sound like a total asshole right know but it’s just—tennis is something I _know_ , you know? And that—being a proper boyfriend and not simply _fancying_ someone, being expected to invest invaluable time in someone on top of my own activities, it was new—still is to me, now. And I know what lies at the end of tennis if I put my all into it—victory, success. Personal satisfaction. Pride that I’ll experience with my team. But with _this_ , with him, I didn’t know what the end would look like and… fuck,” he breaks off, lets out a hollow laugh. “Shit, listen to me. I must sound pathetic to you.”

It takes Seungcheol by surprise, how quick Jeonghan is to admonish himself, when the man is always so sure-footed in every other occasion, so confident he tiptoes the vanity line. Seungcheol scoots back and holds Jeonghan’s shoulder steady in his hand, ignoring the searing heat on his palm from Jeonghan’s slightly sweat-soaked shirt.

“Stop it. Not once did I think that way about you.” He swallows. “If anything, it makes me respect you more. You broke it off once you knew it wouldn’t work out, you didn’t lead the guy on. And you—you’re someone who _really_ knows what he wants, and works hard at it.” He smiles, Jeonghan’s expression a little unreadable. “It’s admirable. Not everyone knows what they want in life.”

“But I’m also supposed to be step out of my comfort zone if I want to,” he hesitates, waving his hand around in the air vaguely. “ _Grow_ as a person.”

“Do you really believe that, or are you just parroting an inspirational speaker you heard somewhere?” Seungcheol leans back, looks up at the bright lights of the tennis court they’ve started to switch on. His voice dips in volume. “Look—there’s a reason I’m not in the varsity volleyball team.” 

“I’ve always wondered about that,” Jeonghan says, voice quieter to match Seungcheol’s. “You know you’re good enough to play competitively, right? More than good—but I never found the chance to ask.”

Seungcheol laughs. “Well, I’m here to give you an answer: I stick to the club team because I’m scared. I love competition—I like the adrenaline, the funk you get in when you’re truly giving it your all in a game. But with a varsity team, everything’s for the public eye. Everyone has expectations of me—and maybe that’s an environment someone, maybe like you, can thrive in,” he gives Jeonghan a reassuring smile. “Which is amazing. But it’s not something I’m familiar nor comfortable with. Maybe the anxiousness I feel from the thought of playing in a set rotation, in a set varsity team, the expectations and pressures that come with them… maybe it’s what you feel towards relationships, too.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, so Seungcheol continues.

“Of course, you have to keep pushing yourself—but pushing yourself has to also be within some kind of boundary. You can’t throw yourselves at a crocodile pit when you’ve raised chicks all your life—“

“ _What kind of analogy_ —“

“Let me have my moment here, Yoon Jeonghan,” Seungcheol ribs said man, who bursts out in a series of chuckles before settling back in. “Anyway—I think you’re pushing yourself out of your comfort zone plenty enough, Captain.”

“Thanks,” Jeonghan says after a beat of silence, his voice still quiet but with a streak of confidence that faltered just moments ago. “Really. It means a lot, though now I might have to accept being a lone wolf forever.”

Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat. “Not forever. It could be… that… you didn’t like him enough that you couldn’t see the relationship going anywhere,” Seungcheol says slowly. “Not enough to make every moment spent together _not_ feel like a sacrifice.” 

“But for me to know that, I’d have to make the sacrifice all over again—go through the whole ‘giving something up’ process, learn to be comfortable with things I don’t know—and…” Jeonghan is almost whispering now. “I don’t know if it would be worth it or not.”

The finality in that statement makes Seungcheol’s breath catch, and in the silence that follows there seems to be an air of tension around them that escalates the longer they let it stretch out. Seungcheol’s brief relief from having spoken whatever has been on his mind for a while is quickly overshadowed by a heavy cloud of disappointment, Jeonghan’s last sentence looming over him in mockery and dashing down what confidence and hopes he’d built up over the past month or so. 

What was he hoping? For Jeonghan to give him a shot? To hint at the possibility of mutual interest, to give Seungcheol the green light? It's almost like Seungcheol hasn't heard the last few minutes of their own conversation, and as he pushes down the feeling of disappointment he inwardly chides himself for being so selfish when a _friend_ needs him to be empathic. 

After a while, Seungcheol says gently, “Hey, thanks. You know, for telling me about it." 

Jeonghan smiles. “No. Thank _you_ for—everything you said. And for sharing, too. We should do this more often.”

“What? Lament over our past mistakes and insecurities together?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and whacks him upside the head jokingly. “I meant swap stories you thick-headed—“

“Yeah, we should, totally. It sounds great. My turn next time—I need to think up of a good one, first,” Seungcheol rushes out, which earns him a grin in response. 

“It better be soon because I’m an impatient person,” Jeonghan teases, and Seungcheol detects sincere, genuine curiosity swimming beneath the lilt of his voice. And maybe this is the only way they’ll get closer—through chaste conversations absent of any ulterior motives apart from building a bridge of friendship. 

So Seungcheol contents himself with this; the fact that someone has been in Jeonghan’s heart before, and closed all the blinds before Seungcheol has even had a chance to look inside. 

 

 

###

 

 

“Can someone snap Seungcheol-hyung out of his afternoon wet dreams?" 

The accusation makes Seungcheol’s head jerk up from where he was arranging the volleyballs a second ago, during which he was definitely not thinking about the warmth of Jeonghan’s body heat close to him, or the lock of hair that always stubbornly displaces itself from its spot behind his perfectly shaped ear. 

“The disrespect I get around here,” Seungcheol complains, because it’s annoying how Seungkwan is reading him so easily and so blatantly, like reciting a poem out loud from an open book. It attracts attention.

“Wet dreams? In the _afternoon_?”

“Quiet, please."

“Cap, you should get a move on and _do something_ ,” Seungkwan quips with a noisy exhale, like the situation is physically straining him, like he’s the one experiencing the heartaches and pangs of longing whenever he catches so much as a glimpse of now light-brown hair. “It’s kind of embarrassing to see you drool over him so obviously like this." 

“I do _not_ drool over him,” glares Seungcheol.  

“I was speaking metaphorically. But seriously, I can feel your thirst from five courts away whenever he does something small, like _smile._ Not even _smiling at you_ , just _A Smile_." 

Seungcheol’s face becomes thoughtful. “Well, he does have a nice smile.” 

Seungkwan throws his hands up in defeat. 

“You see?” he points at Seungcheol and turns towards Mingyu and Wonwoo, who are both in the middle of stripping off their sweaty clothes. “ _This_ is our club’s representative; Choi Seungcheol, a senior stuck in an endless pit of pining." 

“Sounds like the title of a classical poem,” is all Wonwoo contributes to the conversation. Mingyu, on the other hand, interjects more promisingly.

“Hey man, get off his back for a bit,” he says to Seungkwan. “No need to rush. Maybe Seungcheol-hyung is just getting to know the guy and it’s too early to do anything more drastic. Anyway, have you seen their club? Do they even have time to eat between classes and practice? Bunch of hardcores, if you ask me." 

Seungcheol grabs Mingyu to clasp the boy's palm between his own hands with the utmost sincerity. “You’re the only one who understands me,” he says earnestly. “I want to take my time with him." 

“What? Is it because he’s straight? You can always get him to bend — in more ways than one,” Seungkwan counters, crossing his arms. From somewhere in the vicinity of the dressing room, Soonyoung lets out a bark of laughter while Hansol makes a long noise of disapproval. 

“He’s not straight,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “And before you say _then what’s the problem —_ he’s also not interested in dating.” 

“That’s a lie. Everyone is interested in dating." 

Seungcheol smiles wryly. “Unfortunately not, Seungkwan." 

Sensing the shift in mood, Seungkwan leans in closer with a serious expression on his face and lowers his voice, keeping the rest of the team in the dark. “What do you mean?" 

“Last time we talked we ended up talking about his last relationship, and how it just made him more sure that tennis is the… tennis is _it_ for him in life, you know? Then he made it pretty clear that he’s not looking for a partner of any sort, so—there’s that.” Seungcheol casts a glance downwards, where he’s toeing off a corner of the changing room’s floor tile just so he can distract himself. He’s beginning to come to terms with the fact that Jeonghan has fallen helplessly, unconditionally in love with tennis, long before he entered the picture so there should be no plans for him to break this sanctity—or so Seungcheol thinks as he stubbornly keeps his ground. “He looks perfectly happy to be alone. He’s so… sure-footed in everything he does, you know? Always so sure of what he wants. And it sure as hell isn’t me.”

“You can’t judge a person based on what he _looks_ like he’s feeling. _"_

“He _told_ me what he was feeling.” 

“You can’t take his words as immutable truth.”

_“_ Then what the hell am I supposed to base my judgements on?" 

“Whether his _actions_ match his words or not.”  

“I’m not going to push him,” he insists. “Look, if the fact that he said he’s _not sure if he’s ready to sacrifice tennis for anyone_ isn’t enough warning sign to back off, Jeonghan’s also a part of a varsity team that plays on a whole different level from us. He probably doesn’t want anyone to impose anything on him when he’s got so much on his plate already. A relationship would just be a distraction that demands a lot both emotionally and physically and Jeonghan probably isn’t ready for that." 

A firm grip on his shoulder interrupts Seungcheol’s tirade. There’s an ember flaring in Seungkwan's eyes, the kind of intensity Seungcheol associates with his performance during a pivotal match. “Woah, watch it, that’s a lot of ‘probably's you’ve got there, cap. If I didn’t know any better I would think you actually _enjoy_  making assumptions about people’s emotions behind their backs." 

“I’m trying to match his actions to his words like you told me to,” shoots back Seungcheol, feeling heat rise to his face because the conversation is making him confused and, above all, ridiculously hopeful; and frankly that’s the last thing Seungcheol wants to feel at the moment. 

“You said it yourself. He said he’s _not sure_. I don’t know about you but that doesn’t sound like ‘A relationship is totally off the table’ to me.” Seungkwan grips his other shoulder. “Second—are you even listening to yourself? What makes him think it has to be one or the other—tennis or a boyfriend? It’s because that’s the only way he could make it work. It was the _only_ way he tried with the _only_ person he knew—what if there was another way? Another person?”

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol says helplessly. “I wouldn’t know what it means to juggle the two, either.”

“But you’re not even giving him _or_ yourself the chance to try. You’re not giving yourselves an option! This isn’t a case of first, or — god forbid! — second tempo, hyung. You can’t wait for him to set the ball before spiking it. This is a case of zero tempo; _you_ jump for the ball before he sets it to you. Prove to Jeonghan that you can be the one to make him happy, someone who can shoulder his burden with instead of add to it. Everything has to start with _you_  because I’m telling you, hyung, all Jeonghan needs is a little push." 

It makes sense—yet there is still an ugly fear, deep down, of Seungcheol fucking up completely because it’s too soon, because they’re running too quickly towards something that may be one-sided, but potentially destructive even if it’s mutual.

“Zero tempo is risky, and fails more often than it succeeds." 

Seungkwan replies only with a withering look, like he’s genuinely in disbelief of Seungcheol’s words. “I didn’t peg you to be someone afraid to take risks, cap.” 

Silence settles between them as Seungcheol sinks into his own thoughts, and soon Seungkwan is grabbing his towel with a sigh. He gives him a small smile as the rest of the team files out the room, pretending they haven’t just been eavesdropping the last couple of minutes of their conversation.   

“Do what you think is best, Seungcheol-hyung, but don’t let your fear stop you from being happy, okay?”  

Seungcheol is left wondering when the hell his teammates have grown up, away from his usually observant eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this series will continue to be sparsely updated [sweat emoji] 
> 
> it is my long-running headcanon that early-adulthood cheol would be fiercely loyal while early-adulthood jeonghan may be less sure of relationships u__u peace 
> 
> i'm on twitter @aftershaved generally screaming and tweetficcing uselessly most of the time! hmu \o/


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